Separated from her companions, Alissa finds herself lost in the twisted depths of an old dungeon. When she comes across a mysterious demon, she believes he may be her ticket out. But will she bind him to her will, or will she succumb to her darkest desires?
Warning: This short story contains 4000 words of bondage, domination, and forced tentacle sex in every hole. Adults only!
His appendages grew; long, thick tentacles wrapping in tandem around each ankle and each wrist. A fifth had sprouted, circling my waist and pushing me upright. He held me a few feet off the ground and I struggled against his bindings, rather wishing I’d paid attention when my own master taught me how to inflict minor pain using spells of the tongue.
“Put me down,” I demanded, knowing it would get me nowhere.
The sneer on his face was answer enough and I thrashed again, only to feel the tentacles tighten and a sixth appear, smaller than the other five. It snaked out and curled in front of me. I got a good look at the fleshy appendage. All muscle, but covered in hundreds of tiny suckers. The skin of it – that same deep red pigment that colored the rest of his body – seemed to secrete an oil that glistened in the torchlight.
It would almost be fascinating if it wasn’t wrapping around my neck. A sudden stab of panic shot through me like ice water through my veins. As much as my sister had sobbed about it, it hadn’t occurred to me that any of us could actually die in this miserable place. It was just a matter of beating the dungeon master’s obvious traps and tiresome puzzles.
But this danger was a lot more physical than I had expected and by the time I thought to scream the tentacle around my neck had eased, deciding instead to plunge into my mouth. I bit down immediately, his flesh taking on an oddly metallic taste, the oil bitter over my tongue.
He just laughed. “You can stop pretending to struggle. You and I both know you’re already dripping wet.”
Arrogant fool. Even if I was able, I would not dignify that with a response. Demons were full of tricks, their own hubris often their downfall. But his games would be the end of him. By not killing me immediately he had made a grave mistake.
And yet I could slow feel things change. It was subtle, starting when I finally relaxed my mouth, the tentacle plunging into my throat, coating it the sticky residue before retracting. Panic only lasted for a moment, the sensation of not being able to breathe retreating when he did. The bitterness I thought I had tasted before took on an oddly complex flavor, the air seemingly thick with it.
A haze settled over me, like passing the pipe in an incense circle. My body felt light, the pressure of the tentacles holding me no longer a strain or a burn but a strong support as though I had been caught by a sturdy net, suspended from harm. The burning had instead moved lower, my c*** hot and wet, my c*** hard and in bad need of attention.
Somewhere deep in my mind I knew this wasn’t right. I should be feeling that instinctive response to fight. Giving in had never been in my nature, especially in this manner.
“What have you—“
“Ah-ah-ah,” he scolded, waggling a finger. “I have done nothing. Your own desires betray you, summoner.” I watched as the tentacle slipped under the sash of my robes, ripping it away and letting the material fall open before tracing a slick trail over my abdomen. “Deep down you need to be controlled. You lust for it like a bitch in heat. I can feel it in your blood.”